Teaching A New Boy Old Lessons
by LilyHellsing
Summary: What if Sideshow Bob became Principal of Springfield High School? What would he do when he found out 15 yr old Bart is in trouble AGAIN? A little old school is in order; Spanking. R&R M/M Yaoi. ONE SHOT


**Okay, as does all my great one shot ideas, I thought of this while brushing my teeth. This made me blush when I wrote it. I had been thinking about school punishment and wondered why Skinner didn't use something more effective than writing on the board. Then I thought; Why not paddle the old way? Then idea of Skinner/Bart made me gag so I wondered…what if Sideshow Bob was the Principal whose new techniques happened to be the old ways?**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Warning: Includes M/M love. If you are homophobic…don't read this story.**

* * *

Bart laughed loudly, almost imitating Nelson perfectly. It was the middle of the second semester of school. He was no longer a child although he certainly acted like one. When counting years, he was physically (not maturely) 15 years old. Pranks had of course bored him to tears since everyone knew the works of the famous Prank Prince so he just caused trouble.

No longer did he hide stink bombs in the teacher's lounges; instead, he reported bomb threats to the school, forcing them into Lock Down. He used to plant fake spiders in girls hair but now he put spider cameras in their locker rooms. When he used to make prank calls, he now called sex lines.

It was no doubt that he was a trouble making boy.

His family had hardly any control over him, less than they had before when he was young (if they had any at all some people say). They would just turn the other way when he did something, even Lisa did! She learned her lesson after waking up to see a cow's head in the window.

Because they had no control over him or even talked to him except when they needed to, Bart was…confused. When he hit puberty, he went after girls. After all, he told himself many times, he liked girls because he had put those cameras in their changing rooms. But sometimes, like last night when he stayed up till midnight on the phone, he questioned his sexuality.

As a boy, he should have liked girls. The church said he should, his family said he should, the whole damn world said he should! When he called the sex hot line, desperately trying to force himself to be straight, he heard a new option of it; _Press 2 if you want the same sex…Press 1 if you are a woman; Press 2 if you are a man…_

Curiosity took over his mind and he pressed 2 twice. So he stayed up till midnight, maybe a little after, listening to a man talk about sex. He knew then and there that he was gay, if not bisexual.

So now he rolled lazily on his skateboard through the empty halls. Spray paint was in his hand as he sprayed the lockers in a bored way. His eyes were half open as he scanned the halls. Part of him was relieved that no teacher tried to stop him. The other part wished for a challenge…or at least the chance to spray the spray paint on them.

He wouldn't get in trouble though.

Every single time he acted up, Skinner would call him in and tell him to write so many sentences about whatever on the black board. It was getting boring…Actually, it already was boring by the time he was eleven years old. Still, it took up time and occupied his mind, straying him from trouble and thoughts of…sex.

The intercom beeped, signaling to all that Bart was about to be called up. Instead of hearing the tired voice of the ex-army leader, he heard a strange familiar one. It was laced with venom and…cunning. It was far deeper and silk like…and far more sophisticated than anyone in Springfield.

"Bart Simpson; report to the Principal's office…now."

It was a familiar voice, one that dangled on the tip of his tongue but just wouldn't come out! As he slowly rode his skateboard to said office, he wondered what he would have to write now. "I will not color the school lockers a non-school color?"

When he opened the door and placed his skateboard next to it, he spoke as he turned, "Yo, Seymour. So what's my punishment this time? Write a hun-hun-hun-hun…SIDESHOW BOB! AHH!" When he laid eyes on the man in the chair, he stuttered and fought for consciousness, screaming on sheer impulse.

There before him was Sideshow Bob, his fingers laced together, his chin resting on his hands. He hadn't aged a bit! All that was different was the suit he wore and the nametag that read 'Principal'. Fighting the urge to run, Bart tried to collect himself quickly. He was no longer a child; he was a teenager, a young man. "What are you doing here?" It was a miracle he didn't stutter.

"Why, doing my new job of course. You see, you drove Mr. Skinner straight into the nuthouse." His silk voice made Bart shiver, feeling a fire start to grow. "Come, sit, I won't bite much." Although his mind screamed not to, his body did so anyway. "You see…Bart…you've changed so much. Still, you are a trouble maker, a worse on at that!"

He stood up and walked closer. Bart felt his heart thump widely and felt the beads of sweat begin to form on his skin. His stomach churned and he felt a desire, a burning feeling in his groins. Did he…lust…after this ex-attempted-murderer? Was he an 'ex' yet, truly?

"I've heard the punishment old Skinner used." He sat on the desk edge, near Bart. He acted calm, "Making you write on the board until your wrist creaked with pain. Obviously though that didn't work. So you see, I must come up with a punishment…"

He leaned forward, "Have you ever heard the saying 'you can't teach an old dog new tricks'? While that might be true, I wouldn't know since I'm not much of a dog person, I certain know you can teach a new boy old lessons."

By this time, needless to say, Bart was shivering. But with what? Fear? Pain? Suspense? Anger? "W-What are you doing to do to be me?" Lust?

"Back in my day not too long ago, we used paddles. Although it is frowned upon, it certainly isn't against the law. And I'm sure that after this, the whole town will turn their heads away when they hear the trouble making Bart Simpson is getting what he deserves." Bob pulled out a paddle, long wooden and full of holes.

"What?!" Bart jumped up, shouting and startled, and tripped over his chair. He groaned as he landed on the ground, the rough corner of the chair scraping off his skin.

"A spanking is what you deserve, Bart, something to whip you into shape." Bob acted like he was talking about sports! Without a moment's hesitation, Bart tried to turn and run…but the chair had caught his pant leg. "Ah, already in position I see? Good; the sooner we do this, the sooner we can get it over with." He lifted the boy up with ease and placed him over his knee.

Bart tried to struggle, trying to escape and run. He needed, nay; he wanted his skateboard so he could leave! Part of him was tempted to say sorry, to swear to behave. However…his pride would not let him.

When he felt his pants being pulled down slowly by Bob, the young man's breath hitched. His mind instantly went back to the conversation he had with that man on the phone. He felt frozen, even…turned on, much to his horror.

Bart couldn't think anymore for the first blow of the paddle landed on his backside. He winced but wouldn't do anything else; it felt painless enough. No wonder paddling went out of style; it was ineffective! He almost smiled, feeling another hit. How many would Bob give him? A 100?

The next few blows became harsher, something noticed by Bart. He winced again, hesitate in his thoughts. Okay…so maybe it stung a little. _Whack! _Okay, make that a lot! He bit his lip, determined not to let Bob hear his cries.

He had lost count after twenty for a soft gasp left his mouth. Bob froze, his hand resting on his back. Even without looking, Bart knew that the older man wore a very smug smile on his lips. He started up again, his hits quicker than before. What kind of sick twisted pleasure was the man getting out of this?

Bart shifted slightly and both men groaned but not from pain. It would seem…Bart's erection brushed against Bob's clothed one. So _that's _what kind of sick twisted pleasure Bob was getting out of this! Bart didn't trust himself to look at the man, his face a blood red.

The air was thick with tension.

That's when Bob hit Bart's bottom again, harsher than normal. He shifted slightly again, inhaling sharply at the sensation as before. Bob groaned softly, repeating the action. Pain and pleasure…pleasure and pain…it was twisted…it was right…it was wrong…it was…exciting!

Breathing raggedly, Bart started to move back and forth without the paddles help. When he heard Bob grunt with shaky self-control, he smiled; he was now in control. His movement on the old man's lap that quick rapid and random movement, made him drop the wooden stick.

It felt so…abnormal; Bart's naked hard manhood on Bob's clothed hard on. It created friction and with friction came pleasure. By the sounds of Bob's groans and moans, which seemed to be getting louder, he was close. Without even realizing it, Bart had been making similar sounds!

The moment of climax was pure bliss. They both saw stars before their eyes, blinding them as they cried out in unison. Their bodies tightened and stiffened, releasing their load. No doubt there was quite a mess.

Time passed quickly. The sun outside started to come up, meaning the night was over and school would begin soon. The 15 year old shakily stood up, blushing darkly. He cleared his throat, watching Bob try to clean up their mess. After all, they didn't want Principal Skinner to notice something off.

Bart finally spoke up, "You're kidding…_that _used to be one of your dirty daydreams?"

"Every single time I heard you were in trouble, Bart, I could only picture that." He smirked, cleaning up the evidence of their love. "The next role play is yours."

Bart suddenly smirked evilly. "Oh really?"

Bob gulped.


End file.
